The curtains rapidly
impregnated with the surge of wind that bellowed with Autumn's
and it was then
that I knew
Summer had arranged a midnight move.
She was as crisp as a pungent breeze
like an aftertaste of shameless cool;
sublime shivers of reverence crept upon my skin.
Summer could wait no more.
by Kathleen Moll
Read the story behind this poem
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